What's your name?
by Freya-Rhianna
Summary: Lestrade invites Dimmock into his office. Dimmock/Lestrade


**Dimmock/Lestrade #MakingItHappen**

Dimmock, quite unintentionally, found himself standing outside the door to Lestrade's office, feeling appropriately out of place as various officers who worked in Letsrade's department shot him curious looks.

He knocked tentatively on the wooden door frame, eager to leave behind the inquisitive looks that made him feel like he was under scrutiny.

"Come in?" A voice called from inside the office, that Dimmock immediately recognised as belonging to Greg.

Stepping into the room, Dimmock swung the door close in his wake.

Greg's office was of a reasonable size; not too large to question the size of his own office, but not too small for…

Coughing to distract himself from that train of thought, Dimmock permitted himself to settle on one of the chairs that was stationed opposite Lestrade's.

The man in question had barely acknowledged Dimmock's arrival, aside from his initial permission, and it was only when Dimmock began to tap on the table top that Lestrade even looked up from his laptop.

Carefully, Greg closed the lid to his laptop, before leaning further back into his own considerably more comfortable chair, regarding Dimmock with a look of interest.

"Mhhm?" Greg prompted, nodding his head as if to allow whatever it was that Dimmock had to say.

Dimmock rolled his eyes at this display, but couldn't help the fond smile tugging at his lips "Don't play dumb, you sent me a text asking me to meet you here,"

Greg tilted his head to the side in mock-confusion, before the smirk that had been threatening to spread across his face from the moment Dimmock had announced his presence appeared.

"Ah so I did," He said, feigning a sudden epiphany as he stood from his desk chair.

He half paced across the side of the room, before he span on his heel his hand motioning to his desk. "And would you look at that, I just so happened to clear a space on my desk _just _before you entered. Funny how perfect that space would be for someone to sit there…or _lay _there" He added as an after thought, his eyes never leaving Dimmock's face, his own now alight with a cheerful bashfulness.

Despite himself, Dimmock could feel his face burn begin to burn, but still a smile of his own spread across his face. "I take it you've spoken to your, wife since we last spoke."

"Ex-Wife," Greg corrected, but his voice held no hint of remorse, "and yes, yes I have."

Dimmock motioned for him to elaborate.

"She didn't seem too upset by what I had to tell her. Mind you, she didn't have much ground to stand on, I did walk in on her sleeping with a PE teacher." There was an impregnated silence, in which Greg's eyes flickered to the ground "Sherlock was right after all." the last part was said as a murmur that Dimmock could barely catch, but still the despair in his tone spoke volumes and so -instinctively- Dimmock's arm stretched across the distance between them and his finger's came to rest on Greg's cheek.

Brushing the skin there ever so slightly, Dimmock whispered soothingly "Hey…hey it's not your fault. It was never your fault."

The words proved to be comforting for the older man, as he had now placed his own hand against Dimmock's, pressing it closer against his skin.

Not another word was uttered between the two men as Dimmock navigated his way around the table that obstructed his path until he was stood directly in front of the taller man.

Stretching himself up on to his tip toes (so slightly that he hoped Lestrade wouldn't notice) Dimmock rested his forehead against Greg's, while simultaneously wrapping his arms around Greg's neck.

His grin now returning in full force, Greg brought his head down to Dimmock's level to press their lips together in a chaste kiss.

Pulling back ever so slightly Greg brought up a question that had been bothering him for quite some time "Do I get to know your first name now?"

Dimmock grinned at the question, slightly taken aback by the sudden change in conversation. "No." He said simply, despite the hurt look Greg sent in his direction. "I'm just…not fond of it, that's all."

"Well, I can't go calling you 'Dimmock' when we're-" He cut of abruptly.

"When we're?" Dimmock prompted with an amused raised eyebrow. "You can call me…Kean."

"Kean?" Greg repeated, the word tasting foreign on his tongue "will I ever get to know your real name."

'Kean' shrugged, "Maybe,"

"Good, because I want it to be your name that I-"

Dimmock cut him off (after a quick bout of laughter) by pressing their lips together once more.

Greg pulled back after a few moments to catch his breath, and while doing so he leant down to whisper huskily into Dimmock's ear.

"And I'll certainly want you moaning mine."

Before Dimmock could make a remark in reply, Greg had pushed him backwards , causing his knees to buckle forcing him onto the desk.

His laughter was engulfed by Greg's lips around his own, and his amusement was quickly transformed to something more akin to pleasure as Greg's hands began to trace down Dimmock's sides.

Shuddering at the sensation, Dimmock moaned into the kiss, his hands tightening to pull Greg all the more closer.

Just as Greg's fingers began to stray dangerously close to the zipper of Dimmock's trousers, a hesitant coughing filled their ears.

Instinctively, Dimmock's hands fell to Greg's chest to push him away, but Greg's arms that were still wound around Dimmock's waist kept him in place.

"Yes?" Dimmock couldn't understand how Greg kept his voice sounding so neutral and pleasant when all Dimmock wanted to do was find a hole to die in.

Pressing his face against Greg's chest to hide his embarrassment, he could hear the muffled voice of Sally Donovan say "The...reports you wanted sir." her amusement was badly concealed, and Dimmock had no doubt that by tomorrow morning the news would have spread to the entirety of Scotland Yard.

"Yes.." Greg's hand rose to stroke the back of Dimmock's neck comfortingly "well…you can leave now."

There was a few moments of silence in which Dimmock lost himself to the feeling of Greg's fingers stroking against the nape of his neck, and quite forgot Sally was even there until Greg said ; "Sally you can leave now."

"Right…of course." As the door clicked close behind her, Dimmock could hear her laughter ringing around the corridor beyond.

"Great." He rolled his eyes, looking up at Greg who's grin hadn't left his face for the entire encounter "why are you looking so smug?"

"How could I not be," Greg muttered, his fingers ghosting across Dimmock's jaw line.

"Dan." Dimmock said quickly, eyes averting Greg's.

"Dan." Greg repeated, this name provoking a tender smile. "Perfect."

**#IWillGoDownWithThisShip**


End file.
